


Painted With Want

by YellowPolkaDotBikini



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Broken Steve, Desire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Frustrated Billy, Harringrove, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lots of Touching, M/M, Tenderness, Touch-Starved, Touching, Yearning, help them, they're so tired, wanting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowPolkaDotBikini/pseuds/YellowPolkaDotBikini
Summary: Despite the ongoing resentment they hold for each other, Billy needs a release and Steve is just tired. Tired of being left in the dust with a broken heart. Billy might be willing to sweep up his broken pieces. A homework session that just so happened to bring the boys together could just be the match that starts the fire.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Painted With Want

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This text is quite different to my other ones I've written. It focuses more on emotive and descriptive language rather than more dialogue based. If you still would like to read some Harringrove but aren't interested, I advise you read my 'The Good Kinda Screams' fanfic. 
> 
> This writing is more about yearning whereas my other one is more about ✨sexual tension✨. This one is really sappy so why not snuggle down with a blanket? 
> 
> Please point out any spelling mistakes!
> 
> Enjoy!

Colours. They define all of us through what we see. We see warmth. We can see how a person holds themselves and what they desire by the way they choose to show their colours. What one wants allows everyone to take notice on why. Why they want it so badly. Deep within ourselves, hues of the entire colour spectrum can expose us and spill onto the floor, raking them back as colour stains our fingers will not make it any better. 

Blue. It was the colour of sadness, is what one would usually say when talking about what each colour means to another person. But in the blue eyes of Billy Hargrove, what should represent sadness is instead replaced with intense hunger. A craving that drove itself down to the back of his skull. Not just anyone could feed his constant ache of want that plagued his mind. Everyone could see how Billy held himself, slouched pose with a sneer given to anyone that was drawn to his aggressive presence. He didn't bother introducing himself to people that approached him, wondering if they wanted to have dinner. They held themselves in an orderly manner, hoping that they way looked could persuade Billy into going out with them. It was amusing to him how boring these people could be. How nervous the many girls and few incredibly brave boys were when they asked. Billy always answered with the same statement every single time.

"I'll have to see what I'm doing later. I'll call you."

Of course, he never did. Procrastinating everyone's requests to go out gave him the great reputation of many wanting him and never getting what they desire. They spilled their colours onto the floor before Billy's feet and he simply scraped them aside, some sticking to his boots. The fact that they dare ask was an insult to making the ground before him resemble the paint section of a craft store. He regularly slid sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose, giving the colours darker tones. Pretending they were just mere parts of the dirt road he would rather walk on.

Brown. Many people describe brown eyes to be some sort of food that lingers on your tongue for too long. Such as melted chocolate, almonds, or smooth caramel. Although having eyes compared to food that you may enjoy can certainly be a compliment, it wouldn't be for Steve. He preferred his dark eyes to be the bottom of a beer bottle when you looked down the neck when you've had one too many. Brown as the fur of a bear ready to slash down on a hunter, wanting to bite their head clean off with one flex of the jaw. Brown as a glossy violin played by a music student that wants to throw it against the wall out of frustration. Brown as coffee beans about to be ground by a barista that is a hair away from quitting their day to day, nine to five job. From what his eyes showed, he was angry. Fed up with those that held his heart in their hands and pierced it with sharp nails, colour oozing out of the new holes created. He had finally snapped. Not once this school year was he going to let another person waltz into his heart and park themselves right in the middle of his consciousness.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the middle of senior year. Billy transferred to another English class after one too many obnoxious comments nearly drove his previous teacher insane. He now was seated right next to Steve by the window of the classroom. Funny how 'Harrington' and 'Hargrove' were placed together on the attendance list, making the teacher shuffle most of the students around to keep order.

"Mr. Hargrove," She turned from the blackboard over to him. Billy responded with a grunt.

"Since we now have an even amount of students in the class, you are now paired with Mr. Harrington for the group assignment. He can catch you up on the details." The teacher continued scratching chalk. Steve scuffed his shoes on the cheap linoleum floor beneath his desk. He looked over to Billy, eyes shut with a bouncing leg. Apparently his eyelids decided it was time to rest as his legs were ready to carry the rest of him to the exit. Wanting to relax but wanting to flee before the squeaks from the blackboard imprinted on his eardrums. 

What seemed like endless amounts of scribbling notes and picking erasers off the ends of pencils were finally interrupted by the ring of the school bell. All students across the school let out a sigh of relief as it was time to leave the prison of education and go to their individual prisons of family. Shoes shuffled their way down the hallway and out of the large doors, sunlight blasted down onto the students. Billy and Steve exchanged glances and eased through the crowd towards the side of the red brick building, where less people were. 

"Now, I'm no happier than you are about this but we should study over the weekend or some shit." Steve leaned against the wall, combing a hand through his hair only for it to fall in the same position again.

"Um. We have to make a three minute presentation on pride and prejudice and we can do it however we want. Is that what she said?" Billy said as he held a lighter to a cigarette already loaded between his lips. He peered over his sunglasses to gaze at a blonde and a redhead walking past, both in skirts that certainly disregarded the dress code. "Now," Billy turned back to Steve. "I can't skip on another project or I'm gonna have to go to summer school again. So, you gotta number or something?" Until then, Steve had never actually looked Billy in the eyes. They were masked by stained plastic, polluting crisp blue with a grey tinge. He quickly jotted down some numbers on a crumpled piece of paper he found lurking in his pocket and left without a goodbye. A scoff left Billy's mouth, a little hurt from the other's swift exit.

"(574)-555-8143 -Steve" 

Billy held the paper, dragging a smoke with his other hand. The handwriting was neat up until the name, he could barely tell that it was actually Steve's name rather than whomever 'Glere' was. He definitely put more effort into making sure Billy punched in the numbers correctly than his own identity put on paper.

\-------‐-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun peacefully lowered down across the horizon, rays escaping through tiny dots of space in between the leaves of trees. Billy stared off into the distance through the open window, a chill falling over his room. The sudden fall of temperature did not seem to affect Billy while he wore a sleeveless workout shirt.

"-by twelve. Is that alright with you?" Steve asked through the phone Billy was holding. He snapped back into his own head.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow at yours, I'll be there by twelve." Light caught in Billy's eye, wincing as it bounced off the windshield of his car.

"Good. I was wondering if you were still there, you really didn't say anything since you called." A slight crackle in Steve's voice travelled into his ear, he needed a new phone after he kept throwing it in every which way direction.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Seeya tomorrow, Stevie boy." And with that, Billy hung up without bothering to listen for a goodbye from Steve. He left him at school without a simple farewell, so why should he? He flopped on his bed, the sudden weight knocked the head of the bed against the wall. It reminded Billy about how badly he needed to de-stress himself with being physical. Really putting his muscles to work for his own pleasurable needs rather than plain-old-routined exercise. Pressure from all aspects of his life, school, family, and mental health were beating down repeatedly on his brain every hour he was awake. He wanted to relax, to fall endlessly into a pit. Sinking himself down beneath a pool of water, the constant ringing in his ears to just stop. Billy closed his eyes, another brisk wind flooded his room as purple fell over the sky.

\-------‐-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A beam of light shone directly into Steve's drowsy face, he scraped the crust from the corners of each eye as he cursed to himself. Too busy replaying the conversation he had with Billy to draw the curtains shut last night. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyed the complete mess of his room and slumped back down. Clothes were scattered about the floor, his favourite pair of jeans lazily hung on a chair. His school bag was spewing books onto the floor, a hazard if Steve wasn't paying attention to where he was placing each step. He dragged himself out of bed, wrestling with his duvet to find the long side. He managed to knock over his alarm clock as he flailed his arms haphazardly.

"11:46"

Red numbers stared back at Steve on the floor. A sudden sharp intake of breath hit his chest like a sledgehammer as he realised Billy would knock on the door in twenty minutes. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." He repeated over and over as he grabbed handfuls of things that were out of place, shoving them under his bed. Steve chucked his bag and its spilled contents onto the hurriedly made bed to appear like he somewhat knew what he was studying. Ten minutes later, he was done. All except for getting dressed. Steve dove under the bed and found a polo shirt and his favourite jeans, renching his leg through the pant hole and hit his shin against the bed frame.

"FUCK!" It wasn't really a good morning for Steve. Why was he doing this? Did he really care what Billy thought about him? That a pig-sty of a room would make Steve ashamed about what Billy would say? Of course he cared. He cares about everyone, maybe cared about Billy on a don't-look-at-me-but-I-can-fight-you kind of way. A knock from downstairs broke Steve's thoughts about how he actually cared about people that just so happened to cross his path, Billy blocking the path most often. Heavy steps made their way down the stairs and towards the front door.

"Morning, Harrington." Billy greeted Steve with a smile as he swung the door open, more light beaming down onto his drained body.

"Morning, Hargrove." Steve stepped aside and Billy waltzed inside the cozy house.

"Thought one of your folks were gonna welcome me." Billy flashed another smile as he pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. Strangely nice for some odd reason.

"Nah, they're staying with my Aunt for a week. You can pop up to my room, I'll get us some drinks." Steve said as he ambled to the fridge, opening it to find a full case of energy drinks, the electric blue cans blinded him as the bright light illuminated the inside of the fridge. There were many leftovers packed neatly in plastic containers, Steve's mother thought the poor boy was going to starve to death without her.

Billy turned to see Steve open the bedroom door, the squeak of the hinges interrupted his session of quickly fixing his hair in the mirror. He pried is eyes away from the pictures of nearly topless women wedged in between the mirror and its frame. Traditional room decor for an average teenage boy. Billy caught the flying can of pure headache inducing carbonated drink with one hand, Steve's eyebrows lifted. Check the 'impressed' box on his forehead. "I see you didn't bring any notes with you." He said as he dropped his weight onto the bed with a tired groan.

"When your English teacher drones on like that? How could I even write anything down?" Responded Billy with a swift flick of his wrist and a sharp pop of the can. Radiant blue bubbles flowed over the lip of the can, he licked the sugary liquid up off the back of his hand. A subtle choke emerged from Steve's throat. Billy joined the other on the bed, picking up a textbook as he eased himself down. Careful not to spill anymore of the drink.

"One must take in account all aspects of the given text, primarily focusing on the main themes and blah blah blah," he put on a poncy British accent as he scanned a random page of the book. "God, what kind of person could actually make students buy this shit?" Grey pages filled his vision, he would certainly get a headache if he wore those sunglasses indoors for too long.

"Mrs. Pendleton is very passionate about English, I'll give you that." Steve suggested, a crisp pop of his can piercing the air between the two. They were both sitting face to face and cross-legged, a pile of papers and other books that Steve threw there divided them as a barrier. There was always a disconnect between the two men. It was noticeable by everyone else in the school, a hugely popular king of the people and a smooth talking bad boy would obviously never get along when placed in the same room together. If their egos were physical bubbles around them, they would push each other and crush them into the opposite walls. A sense of 'I'm better than you' lingered in Steve's and Billy's minds, a feeling that they shared over common ground. They passed each other in the hallways at school, giving a flash of disgust and curiosity from their eyes - and a quick glance backwards to see if the other was looking. On paper, they seemed like they would break out into horrific fighting whenever they got the chance. However, as every student in the school patiently awaited for them to beat each other into a fine powder, they never once laid a finger on the other. Despite how their colours seethed with a desire for more power, every so often a drop of burning hot impulse would leak out. A tiny amount of impulse that when collected enough of, would drive both of them to seek what the other wanted. What the other was thinking about. How one truly thought about the other. That feeling rarely came around, but it was still there. Lurking.

Half an hour passed as Steve and Billy bantered about how school was hell, not once touching the actual reason why Billy was there. The project was not going to start itself. Cans began to stack up as the day went on, the amount of sugar in their blood would be enough to keep a candy store in business. Billy's body started jittering, hands tingled as they rested on his knees. Steve's pupils dilated and jaw chattered his teeth together.

"I think we've had a bit too much of that shit." Billy managed to blurt out through pained hiccups. A giggle came from Steve, Billy burst out in laughter at his childish snickering. They sat there on the bed, drowning in hilarity, sides were beginning to hurt from the excessive laughter.

"I bet I can totally beat you at a staring contest, dude." Steve babbled, his hands lurched foward and snatched the sunglasses that hung off Billy's nose. "No cheating."

"Piss off. We're not ten." Billy remarked.

"Afraid you'll lose?"

Billy's nose twitched. A challenge? How he longed for one by the 'King Steve'. Though it was only a small dare, it was better than nothing.

"You're on, nerd." 

They finally settled down, moving the wall of school supplies away to get closer, some toppled onto the floor. Steve didn't care about his books folding on top of each other, he would be damned if he lost to this too-cool-for-school bastard. And so it began. The two men locked eyes, a string of tension followed from one pair to the other. Moisture had drawn itself away from Steve's mouth, he was finally looking directly into the vast ocean of Billy's eyes that were without grey stained lenses. 

An unusual sensation developed in the pit of Steve's stomach. He thought it was the energy drink's doing. It travelled up his spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his back, and rested at the back of his head. The feeling bled into his mind much like how ink from the tipped over pot leaks onto yellowed paper. He recognised this feeling. Oh how he hated it. The last time his brain allowed the tender feeling to invade the rest of his body, his emotions were tossed around and then forgotten, left to rot. It was impulse. Filling his senses with an unruly desire to lean into Billy and pull out his darkest fears. His adorations. His warmth that one could feel radiating off him from a mile away. Steve's eyes started to hurt, straining themselves and begging for moisture that he could easily give but his need for victory held back.

Billy's stare didn't falter. As he kept his gaze, he noticed Steve's eyes were welling up. The small reflections of light from the tears reminded him of the stars that he watched turn over in the navy sky the night before. Slivers of gold were painted around the brown irises in Steve's eyes. Billy forced back the smile that dared to crawl onto his face. Out of the few times they actually made eye contact, he never noticed how kind Steve's eyes were. They were comforting, like they once held a fire behind them but it since has finally burned out its last spark. Now they held sentiment.

Steve thought that within himself he wouldn't be able to give his heart out to another person after being beaten down time and time again. What Billy saw in the first couple seconds of that competition while swimming in Steve's eyes was that the whole 'I'll never be able to love again' facade was actually 'please hold me, I'm so tired'. 

The two guys were still going strong. Billy's chest began to burn out of need. A need to win. But as the burning carried on as their eyes continued twitching, it changed into a want. Not a want for finally finishing the dumb contest but a want to get closer. Their eyes were deserts, craving the water that was held at an oasis in the distance. Staring for this long into each other's faces awoke something within each man. Inside, a force wanted to propel them forward and sink their teeth deep beneath the skin. 

"Steve..." Billy croaked through dry lips. A quiet whimper came from Steve, a tear rolling down his cheek. A palm that wasn't his own slid onto Steve's thigh, slightly gripping the denim. The patch of skin underneath Billy's hand was overwhelmed with goosebumps, as well as the skin of his nape. "I can help you feel better." Sultry words flowed from Billy's mouth, Steve's eardrums devoured them. Caught off guard, Steve's eyes betrayed him and blinked out more tears. He had lost but gained something more. He gained more of that impulse he hated so much. "You've been hammered down by everyone a lot. I can tell you're exhausted." Billy finally gave into the cries from his eyes, unsatisfied with his win. Steve closed his eyes and let out a chuckle, wiping away the remnants of his crying. Two arms engulfed Steve. He hadn't felt the touch from someone like this before, a hug from a man that was taunting him at school a couple days earlier. He gave in. He hugged Billy back with a tight squeeze, his nose snivelled on Billy's shoulder.

"How-" Steve managed to choke out before being interrupted by a staggered breath. "How did you know?"

"I just know these things." Billy made little circles with his finger on Steve's back, an attempt to help calm his climbing heartbeat. They were now very close, not just physically but emotionally. Steve's colours broke through the dam he built not too long ago. Beautiful waves crashed into Billy, carrying him while he gasped for air. He was drowning in Steve's multicolored ocean of violently vibrant feelings. As well as his colours, tears were also gushing out and soaking through Billy's shirt. He ran his fingers, through Steve's hair, massaging his head, which did help slow his breaths quite a bit.

A few minutes went by. They sat there on the bed, Steve tried his best to drop his pulse. Billy listened to the other's heavy intake of breath and shudder of it leaving his body. 

"Thank you." Whispered Steve, followed by a sigh. He pulled back to look Billy eye to eye, drinking in the sapphires that laid in front of him.

"You should rest." Billy mimicked Steve's tone and lead him down to the pillow. Steve lied on his front with Billy lying next to him, following his moves and turning to the other man, cheek squished against the fluffy pillow. He felt a hand placed on himself again, this time on his lower back, thumb slowly moving back and forth. The hunter's throat that was held between the brown bear's teeth was released, retreating back into the peaceful woods. The student finally mastered the difficult piece of music, notes floated around as the bow was drawn across the violin strings. The barista was given a napkin with a number on it by a very attractive customer, stamped with a name that rolled off the lips with ease.

Pressure lifted itself off of Billy's shoulders. He was focused on making Steve feel better which made him relaxed as well. They fed off each other. A simple push and pull motion. They were two cogs in a machine, twisting and grinding out the rust that developed over the years of neglect.

"I know this is gonna sound stupid," Steve started. "But my head hasn't been this quiet in a long time. Thank you." 

"It's fine." Billy said through a smile. "That was pretty stupid." They both chuckled. "This is the only time I'm bringing this up but when ever you're like feeling stressed or drained. Just call and I'll be there if you want." Redness flushed in Steve's cheeks. He buried his face in his pillow, secretly grinning. Someone was there for him. A new side of Billy rose to the surface, replacing his dark stature with an unnaturally compassionate one. It suited him better.

"Tell anyone and you're dead."

Ah, there he was. The usual brute that stalked the halls in his classic leather and denim, leering over everyone that walked in the opposing direction to him. 

They both once held candles within their chests. Finally, the built up wax sculptures of doubt, worry, and anger melted away. The flame started to burn as soon as both Steve and Billy realised their problems fit in the same jigsaw puzzle together, completing a picture of relief they were longing to finish. 

Steve looked back and caught Billy gazing at him. He admired the way his eyes shone a brilliant blue, no traces of hunger left to be seen.

"Gotcha. Caught you staring." Steve blurted out with a smile. Billy returned one too.

"It's just-" Billy looked a away for a split second, a pink tinge decorated his cheeks. "You look cute when you're relaxed."

Steve choked. His mind was too busy thinking about what the hell he was going to say when his body moved on its own. His arms circled around Billy's neck and their hips pressed together. Steve nestled his head up against Billy's ear. The hair on his neck stood up as Steve softly breathed on it. Blood inside Billy's veins did marathons around his body, heart thumping against his ribs, almost bursting through to get close to Steve's own heart. Being this close to each other made him feel more alive than any of the multiple energy drinks ever did.

"We need to be close if I'm gonna be more relaxed." Steve had butterflies doing somersaults in his stomach. He was never this forward when he dated his previous girlfriends. Why in gods name was he being this confident when they were practically breathing the same air?

On rare occasions, Billy had been asked out by a couple of guys. It didn't really bother him. Never stuck with him. But when Steve was zero inches away from him, breathing heavily down his neck. A hurricane of colours exploded behind his eyes. He liked that.

He really liked that.

"So, I won the staring contest." Billy whispered with a deep voice. "What's my prize?" Steve pulled back, eyes that finally softened down held a dark haze of want over them now. He licked his upper lip, looking deep into the pit of Billy's soul that was crying out in need for more. Billy caught on. They leaned into each other, Steve having his waist tightly handled and Billy having his neck grasped. Two pairs of plump lips collided, both responding with a deep moan. The type of moan that someone kept only for one person that truly deserved it. A moan filled with a sense of completion, the built up disgust that they once projected onto one another was washed away and replaced with a new start. A start that will have many more different types of moans.

"How's that for a prize?" Steve replied as they broke away, leaving a very small gap between their faces. Billy grinned widely, teeth gleaming and all. Steve was surprised to see him so happy, so content with how the homework session worked out. He planned on seeing this face he now adored so much again.

They both giggled as they pressed their faces against each other again. The waves of colours that broke through Steve's dam met with the clouds that stormed over in Billy's hurricane. Calm. That is what became of the rushing waves and the storm clouds. They toned back into a tranquil pond with a mist over the water in the early morning of Winter. These two men calmed each other well. From how they presented themselves to the world, a king of the people and a smooth talking bad boy, not even they would think that their two presences would work so well together. The two egos that would push against each other instead melded into one, but instead of ego it would be something new. Something made of what they felt on that day. Feelings of realisation, comfort, compassion, and more synonyms that come to mind when you think about how Steve and Billy felt about each other.

Colours. Or should I say colour? They now had one to call their own. The remaining hues of their feelings that spilled out before them, mixed together to create an intense emotion that they shared. Steve and Billy were once falling. Falling for what they thought was forever until a rope was cast down. Gripping it tight, it brought them back to to their ability to care. Care for someone so much. The rope they held tightly was woven with threads of love. It what brought them together and what will keep them together.

Steve and Billy. Billy and Steve. It didn't matter to them. The only thing that did matter now was how in the hell were they going to keep their hands off each other.


End file.
